The Bar- Palmer, AK
by bless-ya-soul
Summary: A quick one-shot between The Wolverine and a fellow mutant in a dodgy bar.


He walked into the dirty bar, brushing the snow from his hair and slicking it back with his hand. Pulling a stool, he ordered a stiff and watched the bartender carefully to make sure he wasn't getting ripped off.

"I said two shots." He barked. "Those are the smallest "two shots" I've ever seen," he muttered. The bartender rolled his eyes and added a touch more of the syrupy liquid into the glass and slid it across the counter to Logan's waiting hand.

Picking up the glass, he smiled smugly and gave a little salute before taking a small sip. Glancing around the dimly lit room he scanned the faces, a bad habit in case things started to turn ugly; they usually did. He sighed and touched the place above his eye brow where he had been whacked with a beer bottle the night before. Thankfully this was a different bar.

There was the typical boozer in the corner, making love to his sixth whiskey. A few lawyer-types hollering at a couple girls giving the eye, and looking ready for a (sloppy) good time. How easy it must be for them. Nothing to worry about but work the next morning, paying the bills and making sure the wifey doesn't find out about "Jenny from the Block."

Logan sighed heavily and took a large sip, glancing at the pool table in the corner. There was arguing as a man with a pool cue stood up to his full and impressive height,

"You cheated, you little runt!" He barked, his cronies gather force to surround the small, young guy that barely looked old enough to be in a bar.

The young guy shrugged smugly, "You were here watching. I don't know how you think I could cheat at billiards." He laughed. "How much of that have you been drinking?" He pointed to the man's drink resting on the edge of the pool table.

"This is bullshit." The man barked back, picking up the money (presumably for the bet) and tossing it in the young guy's face. He gulped down his drink and with that left, the bar with his thugs in tow like ducklings. The bartender sighed, they still hadn't paid yet.

The young guy leaned his back against the pool table, counting the bills in his hand. Intrigued, Logan stood up and crossed the bar to him. He fished a 20 out of his pocket and placed it on the green top. The young guy looked up from counting his winnings,

"I only play with 50's." He said smiling. Logan frowned and fished out some more bills, before picking his cue and getting it chalked up.

There was a loud clink as the balls were broken and scattered across the table. Neither of the men talked as shots were fired. He was good, Logan had to admit, a bit too good. The young guy made impossible shots, the white ball almost bouncing across the table to sink yet another ball. Logan frowned, catching the boy's eye,

"You're cheating. What's the deal? Magnets or something?" He frowned, not liking being taken for a fool.

The boy shrugged, "just good with my stick," he laughed. They were neck and neck, down to the last few. Logan had him up in a corner, almost guaranteed to win the match. He smiled at the young guy,

"Looks like it's time to go back to school and learn some more moves." he chided, whacking another in.

The boy just smiled back knowingly, remaining silent. He always got the last laugh. It wasn't long before the game ended. Logan had fouled up an easy shot and the boy sunk the rest. The boy held out his hand for a shake,

"Good match. Guess I'm not the one that needs to go back to school, Grandpa"

Logan scowled, sizing the boy up and fixating on the extended hand. How had he lost? It was impossible to miss that last shot. But he had…

"You're not from around here are you?" The boy pressed him curiously, picking up the money and stuffing it into his pocket. The handshake still hadn't been completed and he was forced to retract his hand embarrassingly. Logan didn't respond and instead looked in the boy's eyes intimidatingly. Something made the boy hesitate and back up,

"uh, listen mister…" He trailed off, not liking the look the strange traveller was giving him.

"I didn't cheat." The boy continued, stuttering in nervousness. He glanced around but the bar was almost empty. "I'm just good with these things. I'm a good judge of probability." He tried to explain, but Logan was clearly not having it.

"A good judge of _probability_?" Logan frowned, " then what's the probability that I'm going to kick your ass?" He barked. He didn't like it when people like this little brat used their powers against humans. It was people like this guy that gave his kind a bad rep.

"I would say.. uh.. 100%?" The boy answered, backing up further.

Logan made a fist and got up in the boys face. He towered over him, easily twice his size. He reared his fist back, ready to pound him hard. The boy shut his eyes, not even attempting to defend himself. The boy waited for the punch. And waited. About 20 seconds passed and he slowly opened his eyes. Logan was still scowling but instead of a fist, he reached into the boy's pockets and pulled out his fifty dollars.

"Problem with probability kid.. doesn't make you psychic." Logan fought back a smile. "Stick to jacks, or makes some real money counting cards at a casino." He rolled his eyes and left, venturing back out into the blistering cold. His drink was still half full and sweating on the bartop, waiting for him whenever he decided to return.


End file.
